Shifting Gears
by ChocolateSparrow
Summary: A race. A cyclist. A physio. He wants to win the Tour de France at any cost. She just wants to make it through without getting burned. A birthday gift for the lovely Erron.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **_**This story was written as a birthday surprise for our lovely friend Erron.**_

_We put our thinking caps on to answer the burning question - What Would Wonders Want? We decided she needed a gruff, hot, and sexy man with bulging muscles and a dirty mouth._

_Well, unfortunately you've got Cycleward instead. ;)_

_ Think: skintight lycra, oiled up thighs, and lots of deep tissue massages from Physioella._

_We love you to bits, Wonders. Hope you enjoy. Sparrow & Choc xxx_

_Thanks to jcat5507 and Eternally Edward's Girl for their beta'ing and prereading skills._

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**~~ SHIFTING GEARS ~~**

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**CYCLING NEWS MAY 2013**

**EDWARD CULLEN: EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW**

By Jared Cameron

Edward Cullen enters the interview room with a swagger that is just this side of arrogant. Sitting down in the black leather chair, his long legs crossed in front of him, he exudes confidence and determination; his eyes completely set on the prize of the Maillot Jaune.

Born and raised in southern California, Cullen exudes an all-American glamor that other cyclists can only dream about. He may often be photographed with models or actresses on his arm, but rumor has it that women come a very poor second to his first love. When asked about this, his cagey reply is that "No woman would put up with me being out of the country for half the year, and on my bike in the Californian mountains for the other half."

A product of the extreme training that Team Eclipse puts its riders through, Cullen appears to be a perfectly honed machine. Even under the baggy sweats he is wearing, you can see that every inch of him is firm and toned, from his sculpted calves to his bulging biceps. Despite being in the twilight of his career, this 32-year-old cyclist appears to be in the best physical condition of his life.

And now, only weeks away from the start of the 2013 Tour De France, Cycling News has secured an exclusive interview with possibly the most famous, and certainly the most infamous, cyclist on the Tour.

**CN:** After missing out on Gold in last year's Olympic Time Trial (Cullen won silver, coming second to Great Britain's Riley Swan), do you feel that you have a good mental focus on the 2013 Tour?

**EC:** Absolutely. I've spent the last few months completely focused on the different stages. I've been training individually and with the team, and I can confidently say that I'm in the best shape I have ever been.

**CN:** There's been a lot of talk about your rivalry with Swan. How did it feel coming second to him in London last year?

**EC:** Not good.

**CN:** Did you read the comments Swan made about you following his Olympic win?

**EC:** I read 'em all.

**CN:** Will that bad feeling translate into your riding in the Tour?

**EC:** When you're cycling in the Tour, it's not about the rivalry. It's about being the best you can be, working with your team and coming out on top. There's no time for pettiness, or to lose your focus.

**CN:** So, it isn't going to ruin your focus when the Prologue is set in Swan's hometown?

**EC:** No.

**CN**: How well prepared is Team Eclipse to face the up and coming cyclists in Team Volturi?

**EC:** After our winter training camp, and once the mountain passes opened, we spent the spring in France and Spain. We know the routes and we know what we're facing. Jasper Whitlock is possibly the most talented mountain rider in the Tour at the moment, and Eclipse is lucky to have him on the team. We also have a couple of great sprinters and our domestiques are second to none. I truly believe that Eclipse is the best team on the Tour.

**CN**: It's been rumoured that this is your last Tour, and that you are planning to retire from cycling. What do you have to say to this?

**EC: **(Laughs) Nothing. I have nothing to say.

**CN:** You are a big man (Cullen is 6 ft 2), how do you control your weight to make sure you are in prime condition for the tour?

**EC**: I eat what I'm told. I cycle all day. I never have to worry about my weight. I usually start the season at around 180 pounds, I'm 170 now. By the time the Tour starts I will be around 165. It isn't a big deal for me.

**CN:** Do you have any injuries going into the race?

**EC:** Nothing important. I have a great physio who works hard to keep me in top physical condition (Editor's Note-Cullen's physiotherapist is Alice Whitlock, wife of his teammate, Jasper Whitlock)

**CN**: So you're not feeling the effects of getting old?

**EC:** Are you trying to tell me something?

**CN:** Final question and one that my wife asked me to ask. Are you ever going to settle down and get married?

**EC:** (Laughs uproariously) Tell your wife that when the time is right, I'll give her a call.

As the interview wraps up, and Cullen leaves the room to go back to training, he gives the impression of a man who will do anything to win. He is prepared—both mentally and physically—to go up against the best cyclists that the world has to offer. The only question remaining is will he be able to live up to his own expectations?

**Editor's Note:** At the time of printing, Jasper Whitlock has just retired from the Tour, due to a nasty crash with 12 other cyclists. It would appear that, going into the final week of the Tour, Team Eclipse is in disarray.

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**GLOSSARY OF TERMS**

**Maillot Jaune** - The yellow jersey (awarded to the leader of the Tour)

**Domestique** - The 'worker bee' of the team, responsible for looking after the team leader and other stars

**Prologue - **The first stage of the Tour De France

**Peloton - **The main group of cyclists in the race

**Lead-Out Man - **Cyclist responsible for providing a wheel for the sprinter to follow in the final stages of a race

**Cleats - **Cycling shoes with metal plugs that fit into the pedals of the bike.

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**AN**: _Next chapter will post on Tuesday!_

_Sparrow & Choc_ x


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **_Happy, Happy Birthday Erron! Let's meet Cycleward and Physioella **THIGH ALERT**_

_Thanks to jcat5507 and Eternally Edward's Girl for their beta'ing and prereading _

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**~~ SHIFTING GEARS ~~**

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**Chapter 1**

**Givors - Mont Ventoux **

**BPOV**

Stepping off the bus onto the baking tarmac, I relished the warmth of the sunshine on my face. The smattering of freckles across my nose was already more pronounced, and my skin was lightly tanned after only a few days. The hot July sun had been beating down every day since I'd arrived to take over from Alice.

I flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes and picked up my bags, heading across the road to the Team Eclipse hotel. It was the calm before the storm; the riders had finished the race an hour ago and would be arriving any minute.

This stage had been the longest one yet, a 242 km distance with a gruelling climb to the barren peak of Mont Ventoux at the end. Alice was out with the team for her final day before she was flying back to the US to care for her husband Jasper. I winced as I remembered the scenes of his crash on the television.

The peloton had collided, the riders becoming entangled, crashing down to the rough tarmac, leaving many nasty injuries. Their thin racing gear was no match for the roads. Jasper bore the brunt of the force on his head, and it had been frightening watching the teams working on him before he was airlifted to the hospital. Fortunately, he was declared stable, but unfortunately for him—he was out of the race.

I checked into the hotel, winding my way down the corridors to find my room. Unceremoniously dumping my bags on the bed, I grabbed a bottle of ice-cold water from the minibar to quench my thirst. After only a few minutes under the late afternoon sun, I could feel the effects. The riders would have had a tough time being out in it all day. I made a mental note to make sure I had water, energy bars, and electrolyte replacements for my session with Edward Cullen.

Drawing back the curtains to let some light into the small room, I was pleasantly surprised to see my view was over the front of the hotel. Unlatching the windows and the white painted shutters, I pushed them open, leaning on the windowsill as I finished my water, waiting for them to arrive.

It wasn't long before coaches, van, cars, and scooters piled into the courtyard, and the riders and team members, in a multitude of colors appeared, dragging their luggage and kit into the hotel. I looked out for the green and white colors of Team Eclipse and spotted Alice wearing the green short-sleeved polo shirt that I myself had on. The Eclipse team all seemed to be gravitating around the tall and striking form of Edward Cullen.

He would be meeting me for his physio session in less than an hour. I chastised myself for watching him, but it was almost impossible not to when he was still dressed in his lycra. The front of his top was unzipped almost down to his navel, his muscular chest partially visible. He'd removed his cleats and wore a pair of running shoes. I couldn't help my eyes from soaking up his tanned and defined legs. The muscles rippled under his skin as he walked toward the entrance. I should have stopped gawping then, but I didn't, and as if he could sense he was being admired, he looked up, straight at me, the side of his mouth pulled into a crooked grin. If his eyes weren't covered by his Ray-Bans, I knew they'd be devastatingly wicked.

I forced myself to stay in the window, leisurely directing my gaze elsewhere, adamant to appear nonchalant, but I could feel the blush in my cheeks. The last thing I needed was the unwanted attentions of the team lothario directed at me. Team Eclipse had taken a chance putting me with their lead rider, and I wasn't going to blow it.

My eyes alighted on the sandy-blond hair and broad shoulders of my brother, clad in red and black-the Team Volturi colors. Most people couldn't believe we were related, our coloring was so different, but we both had our mother's unmistakable hazel eyes.

I waved down to him, catching his eye, and he returned the gesture before turning back to his discussion with the Team Volturi owner, Marco Volturi. The silver-haired man had a certain understated elegance and wouldn't have looked out of place on a yacht. He certainly lived up to his nickname around the camp-The Silver Fox-but something about him rubbed me the wrong way.

I drew away from the window, gathered my kit, and headed down for the session.

* * *

I was preparing the treatment room the hotel had provided for us when Alice bustled in through the door. She pulled me into a hug and handed me her file on Edward Cullen.

"Here you go. I've written up all the niggles and treatments he's been having each day, and there are some thorough notes on his medical history in there too. The main issue, as you know, is his groin strain." Concern flashed over Alice's face as she explained the details. His injury was more serious than I'd originally thought.

"Now, Bella..." Alice gave me a stern look. It was like a puppy trying to growl, and I couldn't help but laugh. "You are beautiful, and Edward likes beautiful things." She raised an eyebrow implicitly.

"Don't worry, I've worked with his type before. I can deal with him," I reassured her.

"I know you will. You're one of the pro's." She winked. "He will push his luck though, and I want you to be prepared."

"Thank you, Alice. I think I can handle it." She looked relieved at my reassurances, and I smiled, imagining the challenge that the veritable Edward Cullen was going to bring.

"He always likes to have iced bottles of water on hand, and he prefers the orange-flavored supplements to the blackcurrant. Oh, and make sure you use this oil. He hates the smell of the standard stuff." She pulled out piles of supplies from her bag, handing them over.

I shook my head, putting it all away while she continued to reel off even more of his preferences. "So he's a prima donna too?"

She laughed, "Oh, like you wouldn't believe. The trick is to let him think he's getting his way."

"That sounds like hostage negotiation." I was beginning to dread his upcoming session, and the grimace on my face gave it away.

Alice reassured me one last time before she turned to leave. "You'll be fine."

"Ask me again when the Tour is over," I joked as she hugged me again. I squeezed her tightly, knowing she must be worried to death about her husband. "Send my love and best wishes to Jasper."

"I will do. Thanks, Bella, and good luck."

I had a feeling I was going to need it.

* * *

A knock heralded the arrival of Mr. Cullen. Before I could answer, the door opened and he strutted in. He'd changed out of his team colors, and was sporting a white t-shirt and black running shorts. I had a hard task drawing my eyes away, so I turned around, opened his file and dated a new blank page.

"Hi, take a seat on the table. I'll be with you in two ticks." I wrote out some more unnecessary details to try and regain some composure, but that was shot to pieces when I sensed he was standing behind me. I could smell the lemony mint of his shower gel.

I turned to see his arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the table. The pose was an optimal display for the sinewy muscles in his forearms, veins standing out under his golden skin. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn this was a tried and tested peacock display of his prowess. I bit my lip to contain the laugh that was building as I imagined him practicing his moves in front of the mirror.

He was less than a foot away from me, and I had to tip my head up to look at him.

"Hello. I'm Edward Cullen," he drawled lazily. His lips quirked minutely, revealing a dimple in his cheek.

"Yes. I'd worked that out. Can you hop up on the table?" I squeezed out from the small place he'd hemmed me into, wanting to put some distance between us. It would look highly unprofessional if anyone had seen how close we'd been standing. "I'm Bella. I'll taking over for Alice. I'm sure she's already explained."

He paused for a minute before he did as I'd asked, and jumped up. "She did, but I think she was withholding some vital information."

"And what was that? Maybe I can help fill in the blanks." I patted the head end of the table. "Can you lie back?"

He chose to ignore my request, continuing to appraise me with startlingly green eyes that were swimming with mischief. Team Eclipse had had a rebrand a few years ago, changing their logo and color scheme. Rumors were that the head of marketing had based the new colors on the very eyes that were burning into me. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd succumbed to his charms, and he'd planted the idea in her head. He was certainly arrogant enough.

"Edward. Back!" I ordered, pointing at the bed.

"She didn't tell me you were gorgeous." He still made no move. It was exasperating.

"She didn't tell me you were a pain in the ass," I countered and he laughed, a divine sound that deserved to be heard over and over. No wonder women went all weak-kneed around him. He oozed sex in an obscene way.

He held his hands up momentarily and then pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled body that wouldn't have looked out of place in the Musee D'Orsay amongst the Rodin's—if it weren't for his ubiquitous cyclist's tan. His arms, face and neck were at least three shades darker than this torso.

I had to dig into my reserve strength to keep my eyes level with his face. The smug smirk told me he knew I was under a certain amount of duress.

"So tell me, which part of your upper body is injured. Your deltoid?" I asked, nonchalantly

His brow furrowed slightly, his tone cooling. "It's my adductor, not my shoulder. I thought you would have at least read my medical records. This next stage is crucial, I need to be on top of my game if we're going to take home the yellow jersey."

"I have read them-rigorously. I was just wondering why you've taken your t-shirt off when I'll be working on your groin?" I countered.

He didn't bat an eyelid at my obvious sarcasm. He just got off the table and started to pull his shorts down.

I span around, desperate to hold onto the last scrap of willpower against his charm, and to hide the smile that was tugging at my lips. "Edward. I will write you up if you don't behave. Don't test me."

I heard him get back up onto the treatment table, before I hazarded a glance. Thankfully he was fully clothed with a victorious smile curling his lips.

"Thank you." I set to work, pushing the leg of his shorts up, focusing on the task and the treatment as I'd been trained to do, and pushing thought of flexing muscles, warm skin and frustratingly attractive, egotistical cyclists out of my mind.

Edward seemed to drop his act too, and relaxed into the treatment, as I worked his muscles. He talked me through the day's race and his tactics for the next stage. I was shocked at the vehemence he directed at Riley and managed to catch myself before I faltered in my routine; it was either that or cause him grievous bodily harm.

He obviously hadn't heard who my brother was, and I decided I'd keep my mouth shut for now. The session had started off of the wrong foot as it was, but we'd settled into the pace of the massage and both dropped into a comfortable silence that was only interrupted by a few winces as I passed over his injured muscles.

After the session had ended, I rinsed my hands, giving him instructions for some stretches to perform later that evening and in the morning—thankfully, he seemed to be listening to my advice. Before he left, he offered his hand. "It was lovely to meet you, Bella."

I shook it, his large palm and long fingers enveloped mine, holding it for a moment too long as his eyes searched mine, looking for what, I didn't know.

I drew in a breath, parting my lips. My body reacted to the intensity of his eyes and his closeness whether I wanted it to or not.

It seemed that was the sign he was waiting for. He stepped closer to me, his body almost flush against mine. I could feel the hard planes of his chest and stomach pressing against me as he whispered in my ear. "I really want to run my hands all over _your_ body now." His warm breath tickled my skin, and his words sent sparks to every single nerve ending. I managed to snap out of my haze, my mind winning out, and I pushed him back.

Rejection was a foreign concept to Edward Cullen, judging by the shock that passed across his features.

"That will never be happening, Edward, and if you suggest it again, I'll report you for harassment." I stared at him, schooling my features into a blank and stony expression.

Surprise flashed across his face. He turned and walked away, pausing at the door, swiftly replacing it with a taut smile. "Good Night."

I nodded at him, relieved that he'd decided to be professional. "Night, Edward."

As the door closed behind him, I sat down to calm myself. My heart was beating erratically in my chest. How I'd managed to stand up to him was nothing short of a miracle. I hoped that we could still work together—the thought that we wouldn't, set my teeth on edge.

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AN: Thanks for reading! Sparrow & Choc oxox


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **_Cycleward is still all yours,__ Erron! Lets watch him take a workout._

_Thanks to jcat5507 and Eternally Edward's Girl for their beta'ing and prereading. Lots of kisses to all of you for reading and reviewing._

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**~~ SHIFTING GEARS ~~**

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**Chapter 2**

**Vaison La Romaine – Gap**

**EPOV**

Intense focus. Adrenaline coursing through my veins. Every part of my body was concentrated on the road ahead, and I steadied my breathing to regulate my heart beat. Too fast, and I'd use too much energy. Too slow, and my body would be oxygen starved. We'd practiced this start over and over again, and I sensed the welcome sheen of confidence wash over my body. My mind was clear of everything apart from the course in front of me. I mentally rode my way through it, along the gentle inclines, through the fast flats, then up the approach to the Alps where my quads and hamstrings will ache like hell. Nothing else mattered.

Until that little shit Jacob Black went and opened his goddamned mouth.

"Hey, Cullen, I hear that Riley's sister's been touching you up."

I ignored him, trying to tune out his high-pitched timbre. Nothing irked me more than Black and his constant digs.

"Did you hear me, Cullen? I hear she's been running her hands all over your body."

"Fuck off, Black," I muttered, trying to pull my focus back to the race. I shook my head a little and tried to tune him out.

"She's cute, too. I tried to bag some of that shit myself, but apparently she's too good for the likes of me."

Okay, he'd gotten my attention now, and I turned to him, a pissed expression on my face. He may have been on my team, and maybe he was a demon on the mountains, but it didn't stop me from wanting to punch the smile right off his face.

"What the fuck?" I could feel my hands start to sweat, and they slipped on the tape, losing their grip on the handlebars. Wiping them on my shorts, I took my position again, glancing at the clock and noting there was a minute until the race began.

"Bella, your new physio. As in Bella Swan, sister of Riley."

And now a punch in the face was too good for Black, because what I really wanted to do was throw him on the ground and ride over his smug face repeatedly. He'd look good with a few tire marks criss-crossing his cheeks, and the thought almost pulled me back from the edge. I felt the perspiration that was already covering my body start to turn cold, despite the warmth of the June air. Why the hell didn't Alice tell me that Bella was Riley's sister? The clock was ticking down the seconds, and I parked this thought in the depths of my mind, deciding to come back to it later.

Rolling my shoulders, and relaxing the muscles, I moved back into my racing position. The riders ahead of me started to pull off, and I followed behind, pressing my cleats down into the pedals, making large circling motions with my legs as I began to accelerate, checking in my peripheral vision to make sure that the rest of Team Eclipse was alongside me. Leaning forward at a sixty-degree angle, I dipped my head and felt the pull in my quads and calves as I began to pick up speed.

Riding easy was the perfect way to start a race. All of the front group stayed together, a rainbow of team colors all moving as one, toward the mountains that loomed in the distance. The rest of the team was in front of me, trying to safely shepherd me toward the end of the stage. Moving into their slipstream, I hit my rhythm, and the way my heart beated, and my legs moved in time to a silent symphony, was like music to my ears.

Just to the left, I could see the familiar red and black of Team Volturi, with Riley Swan toward the rear of the group. He inclined his head, and I realized that they were trying to make an early break, and a brief gesture of my own alerted the rest of my team to Volturi's tactics. Miguel Ciudad swerved expertly in front of me to lead our team out, mirroring Volturi's pace.

The race continued in a similar vein. One rider made a break, and then the peloton caught up. Another tried to move in front, but we kept chasing them down until we all hit the mountain together, the gentle incline suddenly becoming steep, our movements turning slow as our muscles adjusted to the new cadence. I took a huge gulp of air to try and counteract the cramp that was starting to push down on my quads. They were screaming in pain, and I refocused my brain on the road ahead, ignoring the sharp shots of agony as the fibers contracted.

When we reached the top, the race really began. The team had placed me in the optimal position, just ahead of the peloton, and Miguel lead me out into the sprint before elegantly sliding behind and letting me take the front. I adjusted my body again, this time sliding forward on the saddle, moving my hands onto the bars in front, flattening my back until it was almost horizontal. My head dipped and my eyes could only just see the road in front of me, although I'd already memorized every twist and turn, knowing that keeping my aerodynamic position could be key to the win.

A flash of black and red, and Riley Swan drew alongside me. A small smile crept across my face, despite the agony that I started to feel in my groin muscle as my toes dipped and my legs moved in small fast circles. I cycled through the pain, letting it pull me into a speedy rhythm, edging just in front of Swan, as he moved so close I swear I could hear him breathe.

Spotting the finish line ahead, I dipped lower still and threw every last piece of reserve energy into the sprint finish. I didn't check to see if Riley was next to me, I didn't want to expend the effort it would take to move the muscles in my neck. I didn't even listen to the roar of the crowd as I barrelled toward them, my heart clattering and the air escaping my lungs in short, harsh bursts. The noise crescendoed as I passed the finish line, allowing my arms to rise up in the air, tensing my muscles to keep the bike vertical as I slowed to a stop.

Riley Swan pulled up beside me, and I realized that I'd beaten him for the first time since the Olympics last year. I really wanted to savor this moment.

"Hey, Swan. It was a real pleasure riding with you today." I knew I was goading him, but after the things he said about me in London, the bastard deserved it.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Cullen," he replied through gritted teeth.

"I have to say, I think I might have strained my groin again. My physio is going to have to work extra hard at relieving the pressure tonight." And though the expression on Swan's face was making me laugh, I wasn't even kidding about the groin strain. That last sprint definitely pulled something. It wasn't pretty.

"Fuck you. Keep your hands off my sister, or I'll…" Swan suddenly realized that a microphone was being put in his face, as he was meant to be answering a question for ITV. I winked at him, enjoying the angry red flush that was flooding his cheeks.

"Maybe you should be telling your sister to keep her hands off me. I just lie back and think of the grand ole US of A." With that, I stepped down from my bike and headed over to the press corps, a smile still plastered across my face. And I enjoyed the feeling, because after the Olympics, it had been a long time coming.

On the bus back home, I gave our trainer an earful for not telling me that Bella was Riley Swan's sister. I wasn't sure that I trusted her, and the only reason I'd let her anywhere near me was that my whole body was wracked with pain and tension. When we reached the hotel in Gap, I walked straight to the room that had been set up for my physio and grabbed a towel, barely even caring that I was stripping in front of my enemy's sister.

"I hear you won." Her voice was quiet as she turned her back on me, and I watched as she started to sort out the oils.

"Yep."

"How do you feel?" She turned back as I wrapped the white towel around my hips, and I caught her glancing down at my abdomen, her eyes following the line of hair as it dipped beneath the white cotton.

"My calves are shot to shit, and my groin muscle hurts like hell. But apart from that I feel great."

Because I whipped your brother's ass, I added silently.

"Well, hop up then. Let's get this over with."

I tried not to look offended at her words as I climbed onto the leather table, lying face down as she rubbed oil on her hands and began working on my calves. I winced as her thumbs pressed down on the muscle fibres, the pain from her circling movement shooting straight up my leg. I knew she could feel my response, but she carried on. It would be worth it in the morning when my calves were loose and I was still able to cycle.

Hating the sound of silence that blanketed the room, I decided to make conversation with her. "Aren't you going to ask how your brother did?"

"I know how Riley did." Bella didn't sound surprised that I knew he was her brother. I could hear her soft breaths as she leaned over me, her hands slowly moving up my legs until she reached my hamstrings.

That's when it started to turn weird.

The touch of her hands on my thigh made me shiver. The way she massaged me felt different to Alice-softer, more feminine-despite the pressure that she was putting on my legs. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, willing my body to ignore its natural response to her touch, because getting a hard-on while lying on the physio table was amateur and embarrassing.

"Is this okay?" She moved higher now, her fingers finding the strained muscle just below my groin, and the pain that I felt as she pushed down was welcome-anything to take my mind off the pleasure of her touch. But I still responded, and I was dreading the moment she asked me to turn over and notice that my dick was sticking straight up to the sky.

Like a teenaged boy with an inappropriate erection, I started to go through all the things that disgusted me. I recalled my grandmother and the way she used to put her teeth in a glass by the side of her bed. I thought of Jasper and how he always used to fart when we shared bedrooms as junior cyclists. I remembered the nausea I felt last summer when I saw the Olympic Gold Medal hanging around Riley Swan's neck.

I could feel myself soften as I lay on my front. Moving my head to the side, I caught Bella's eye and saw her staring straight at me, the deep hazel darkened by her widening pupils. As much as I wanted to move my head and look away, I found myself captured by her gaze. Suddenly, my heart was pounding faster than when I was sprinting down the final fifty yards, and I could feel the rapid drum beat it made against my ribcage.

"You can turn over now." She broke the moment with a breathy voice, and I had to restrain myself from reaching out to touch her. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming at me to pull her onto the table and kiss the holy fuck out of her. In spite of her relationship to Riley Swan—or perhaps because of it—I couldn't help but want to run my hands all over her body. To push them up her legs the way she did to mine, to rub the pad of my finger along the soft fleshy skin of her inner thigh until I heard her breathing hitch and felt her muscles tense in anticipation of my next move.

"I'm going to start on your quads. They feel pretty tight," she almost muttered to herself, and her cheeks flushed brightly. My fingers itched with the need to touch them, to see just how hot her skin was.

"They took a hammering on the mountain."

"I can see that. I'll do what I can to loosen them, but I think you could probably do with an ice bath."

I fucking hated those things. Sitting in a tub with freezing-cold water washing around my balls was not my idea of a good time.

"At least tomorrow's a rest day."

"I'll be here first thing in the morning. A couple of sessions tomorrow and you'll be good to go. How's the groin feeling?"

I resisted my natural urge to respond lewdly and muttered that it was okay, even though it still hurt like fuck. I was nervous that it was going to worsen overnight, because I'd had groin strain before and it wasn't a walk in the park. Bella finished up the massage and moved away, walking over to the hand basin and washing her hands before she handed me a white terry robe. I sat up and pulled it on, the white fluffy towel pooling around my feet as I rose.

"Thanks." As I stopped in front of her, I realized just how tiny she was. She had to be at least a foot smaller than me, and the thought of this small woman being able to manipulate my muscles until they surrendered, made something move inside of me.

"You're welcome." As if she, too, could feel the tension between us growing, she blushed again, before turning on her heel and almost running out of the room. Herr tight ass moved beneath her skinny jeans, and my eyes widened at the sight. Once this tour was over, I was determined that I was going to find out exactly what she had going on beneath those clothes.

Despite the stage win, we didn't celebrate at dinner; our nutritionist was too careful, making sure that we had the correct ratio of carbs-to-protein to even let us think about wanting a beer. Bella didn't join us, and I couldn't resist a glance over at Team Volturi's table to see if she was consorting with the enemy.

She wasn't there either.

It was a shame she wasn't, because it would give me an excuse to get rid of her as my physio and smack Riley Swan in the face at the same time. As the pundits say, "that kind of result would have been a win-win". I didn't even try to analyze what it was about her that riled me up, although I was aware of my visceral response to the way she touched me. I just knew that I wanted her to stay away from me for the rest of the race. Almost impossible since she was the one charged with keeping me in peak physical condition.

The girl shot my concentration to shit, and I didn't like it one little bit.

After dinner, the doc told us all to get an early night. I followed his instructions like a robot, knowing that my body craved the rest and peace my bed could give me. Just as I reached the elevator, I spotted a familiar body sidling up to me.

"Edward, I've been wondering where you've been hiding." Carmen Volturi looked at me through her thick, dark lashes and reached out to run a finger down my bicep. I flexed it slightly, more as an automatic response than any peacock-like tail showing.

"Carmen." I decided to keep it brief, because after the last time we hooked up, she was like a limpet. It took three dates to peel her off me.

"You look tense. I can help with that."

I laughed. "I bet you can, but I'm in the middle of a race." No sex during a competition; a hard-learned lesson, but one worth keeping to.

Carmen leant forward, and I caught a scent of flowers and jasmine, my eyes automatically moving down to her chest as she practically pushed her cleavage in my face.

"It doesn't have to be sex. I can see that you need to relax, baby, and you know exactly what I can do with my mouth."

A sudden memory of our post-Giro romp flashed through my brain, and I recalled the way we spent three days holed up in an Italian hotel room. Though Carmen was the daughter of Marco Volturi, I can't say that I wasn't tempted to take her up on her offer. My body was still raw from the touch of Bella Swan, and I wanted to fuck that feeling right out of me.

The elevator arrived, and as the doors opened, Carmen pulled me closer, her lips touching my ear as she whispered dirty things. Feeling a smile pulling up at the corners of my lips, I stared straight ahead, and noticed that the car wasn't empty. Looking straight back at me with the strangest expression twisting her delicate face, was Bella Swan. Pulling away from Carmen's grasp, embarrassment flooded my body as I realized exactly what this must have looked like. I opened my mouth, feeling an inexplicable urge to explain that it wasn't what it seemed, before I shook my head at myself in disgust.

I owed Bella Swan nothing. Nothing at all.

It didn't stop me from watching, as her eyes narrowed and she pushed past us, muttering something under her breath as she strode away. Shaking off Carmen, I stepped wordlessly into the elevator, and in the moment before the doors closed, the last thing I saw was Bella Swan walking up to Marco Volturi, a look of determination crossing her face


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **_Thanks to jcat5507 and Eternally Edward's Girl for their beta'ing and prereading. French kisses to all of you for reading and reviewing. Special hugs to Erron, who may still be reading this on her next birthday.  
_

* * *

**~~ SHIFTING GEARS ~~**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Rest Day**

**BPOV**

I don't know what it was about Edward that riled me so much, but the next morning as I entered the restaurant, where white tablecloths strained under the weight of breakfast—fruit, cereals, croissants—I couldn't stop my mind from wondering whether he'd spent the night with Carmen Volturi.

The thought had diminished my appetite but I picked up a ruby-red apple and a cereal bar, placing them in my bag for later. Scanning the long trestle tables, I caught Riley's eye, and he waved the half-eaten pain au chocolat at me in greeting. The manic pace of a race day had slowed considerably as the riders enjoyed a much needed break. Many would be heading out onto the roads for a ride, to keep their legs moving and avoid stiffening, and undergoing intensive sessions with their physio.

I hadn't seen Edward, but my eyes unintentionally searched for his distinctive unruly hair, while I poured a cup of strong coffee. The rich aroma hit my nose, energizing me before I'd even sipped it. I tried to remain unaffected by him, but he'd burrowed under my skin. Remembering the way he'd looked at me last night, his eyes lingering intently on my face as I manipulated his taut muscles, made me feel hot and bothered.

"Good Morning, Bella." Marco Volturi appeared by my side. He reached for the coffee pot, and his arm brushed past my body. The invasion of my personal space made me step back, clutching my own cup in front of me as a barrier.

"Morning." I smiled, aiming to placate him had he seen my reaction, but he didn't appear to have noticed. His steel-grey eyes, lingered on my face as he stirred cream into his cup, the metal clinking against china as he tapped the spoon on the edge, settling it on the saucer.

"I spoke with Carmen this morning. She assured me that it was nothing but a friendly chat." He arched a silver eyebrow at me, and I felt foolish for my knee jerk reaction after seeing their little display by the elevators. It had irked me, and I'd politely asked Marco to ensure that his team behaved appropriately—his voluptuous daughter being my main concern.

"Thank you. I'm only concerned that Edward gets enough sleep so he's in peak physical condition. If he overdoes it tonight, his groin will be killing him in the morning." I bit down on my tongue; the euphemism in my words revealing itself only after they let my mouth, reddened my cheeks.

"Quite. That is why we have a strict non-fraternization policy amongst Team Volturi." He explained, but his enunciation left me in little doubt it was a joke to him.

I maintained a nonplussed expression. "Yes, I agree. It's of the utmost importance to remain professional."

He let out a short, sharp laugh, tilting his head. "Those rules don't apply to me though, and I thought, perhaps, you could return the favor I granted and join me for a drink this evening?"

I frantically searched for an excuse. The charm that attracted his bevy of fans had the opposite effect on me; I was as wary of him as a lamb stalked by a wolf. I settled on professionalism as an excuse. "Thank you for asking, but I feel as a member of a competing team it would be frowned upon. I'd better go. I have to set up for my session." I plastered a smile on my face, hoping it would seem sincere.

Annoyance flashed across his eyes, but it settled into a wan smile. "Of course. And I have some very important calls to make. The sponsors are clamoring for our up-and-coming wonder boys, and you have to keep them happy when they're going to be the next big thing. I really think that Team Volturi is ready for a shake up, perhaps it's time for Swan to step down." The thinly veiled threat, sent a shiver down my spine. It was becoming clear that Marco Volturi was a man who liked to play dirty.

"Have a good day," I replied, stepping around him and rushing to set up the room for Edward's session, the implications of the conversation racing around my head. By the time Edward appeared, I'd chewed by lip raw, feeling trapped by Marco's insinuation about Riley.

"You've got an hour, then I'm riding," Edward said, jumping up onto the table and lying back with his cell in front of his face. His fingers flew over the keys.

"Good Morning, Edward. How are you feeling today? Tired?" I'd added the last word, and the snark that went with it, before I could stop myself.

"Nah, I had a good nights sleep. Really, really good in fact." He glanced at me for the first time no doubt wanting to see my reaction.

"How are your legs?" I pushed the soft material of his navy blue shorts up, revealing his muscular thighs. He flexed his muscles so they rippled under his skin, and I had to try hard not to roll my eyes.

"A little stiff. My groin has taken the hardest beating. I think it's worsened since the climb yesterday. I've tried stretching, but it won't loosen up." He explained, his attention returning back to his phone.

I squirted the oil over his legs, his thighs quivering under the cold liquid, and slowly ran my hands over them, spreading it equally to facilitate my movements.

Starting slowly, I manipulated his muscles, gradually increasing the pressure with my thumbs, feeling them bunch under my touch when I hit a particular sensitive area. I'd lost myself back in thoughts of Riley and Marco when I realized he was watching me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and my hands paused in their ministrations, shocked at his unexpected question.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I set back to work, moving down to his calves, running my thumbs deep into the sinews of his defined muscles.

"You were frowning and biting your lip," he explained, wincing as I took a particularly tough pass over his skin.

"Was I? I didn't realize." I stood up and gestured for him to flip over with a flick of my wrist.

He was clearly in a better mood today, as he obeyed and settled back down, resting his head on his arms, still watching me. It was like having a spotlight shining down on me, and I felt a flutter deep in my stomach, which I hoped was hunger for having skipped out on breakfast.

"You know, you have really pretty eyes," he said.

I laughed at him, shaking my head. "Don't talk rubbish, Edward. How does this feel?" I ran my thumb in a furrow up the back of his hamstring." I was never good at taking compliments.

"It feels good." His eyes closed as I dug deeper, gradually moving up toward his pert ass. I immediately chastised myself for thinking of it as anything other than a muscle I had to work on, but my eyes kept flicking to it, and I had an overwhelming urge to bite it.

"And it's trash," he muttered.

"What is?"

"You said rubbish. It's trash. Don't talk trash." His eyes stayed firmly shut with his lips curved into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Well that may be, but I'll stick with rubbish. And biscuits and pavements and jumpers." I started on his other leg, and he winced as I pressed over the sensitive area of his strain.

"Jumper. That doesn't even make sense. Why do you call them that?" He snorted, switching his head to the other side and cracking open one green eye so he could watch me again.

"And sweater does?" I tried to ignore his penetrating gaze, but I could feel my body heating up.

"Well it makes a hell of a lot more sense than woolly jumpers." A laugh rumbled out of his chest, and I had to smile at the sound. Seeing the laid back, playful side of Edward was a rare occurence, and I wished he'd show that side of himself more.

"It must be something to do with sheep." I shrugged, feeling my argument crumbling around me, but I wasn't going to give in that easily. He struck me as the type to argue a point to the death, and he'd met his match in me. Stubborn was my middle name.

"Sheep don't jump," he retorted.

"Yes, they do." I filled my voice with conviction, trying to remember if they did in fact jump, and my lips twisted with the laugh building at the utter ridiculousness of our conversation.

"Maybe when you're counting them jumping over fences to get to sleep." Edward quipped.

"I don't have to count sheep to get to sleep."

"Oh yeah? So what do you do then?" His eyebrow raised in question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I teased, surprising myself with the comment. There was something about having an oil-covered Adonis flirting with me that loosened my lips.

His voice had garnered a husk when he responded and the sound shot ribbons of heat straight between my thighs. "Yes, I would definitely like to know."

I tried to ignore him, focusing on working out a tight knot and continuing to knead it even after it had gone, worried what would happen if I looked at him. I was losing my mind.

The next time he spoke his voice had returned to normal. "Can you say knickers for me." Shame his mind was still well and truly down in the gutter.

"Shut up, Edward," I admonished, refusing to fall for his obvious attempt to fluster me.

"Just say it once, and I won't ask again. It sounds so much better in your accent," he pleaded.

"Nope. Right, I've finished. Are there any other muscles that feel a little stiff. We have five minutes left." I patted his firm leg, signaling him to shift over.

"There might be," he mumbled into his arm, before turning over and sitting up. His face, all of a sudden, was directly in front of mine, and it would only have taken a small step to be between his open legs. I swallowed the urge to move.

"Say it, out loud." His green eyes glinted mischievously, and I was drawn to a flash of pink as his tongue darted out and moistened his bottom lip, and I couldn't stop myself from watching the sensual action.

I forced my eyes back up to glare at him, and lifted my chin defiantly. "Fine. How about this? Edward Cullen, you are _never_ going to see my knickers." I narrowed my eyes, before turning and grabbing a paper towel to wipe the oil off my hands.

In a flash he was behind me; I felt the warmth from his hard chest pressed against my back. I froze as he leant down, caging me in with his arms as he placed his palms flat on the work top and whispered into my ear. His warm breath fanned across my skin. "That's because I will rip them off you so fast you'll never even miss them."

His words sent tremors to every single erogenous zone in my body, but I managed to pull myself together, stepping to the side. "Edward," I warned. "This session is over."

A crooked smile spread across his face. "The session might be over, but this isn't." He gestured between us before he left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving me standing there, a needy, wanton mess.

After spending the rest of the day reading out in the sunshine, I'd changed into a cotton sundress and headed downstairs for the evening meal. Tables were set out on the terrace in the warm night, and candles flickered in colorful glass holders creating a beautiful glow. The atmosphere was lively, the riders enjoying the brief respite. Although there was hardly any alcohol to be seen, mountains of pasta were being shoveled away to reserve energy.

I brushed my hands over my dress, smoothing the teal green material and headed to the Team Eclipse table. The raven-haired figure of Miguel Ciudad appeared by my side, placing his hand over the small of my back. The gesture was not possessive or sexual; he was the kind of man whose personality overflowed with charisma and kindness. I couldn't help but compare him to Marco; the thought of him sent a shudder skipping down my body.

"Bella, Cariño, you look beautiful this evening, and for that reason you have to sit by me." He smiled, his perfect white teeth contrasting against his tanned skin and the dusky evening light. He directed me to a table, pulling out an empty seat and performing an overzealous bow as I sat down. He was the definition of tall dark and handsome, but there was a playful side to his flirting, and I enjoyed his company.

"Thank you, Miguel. How was your day?" I took the white cotton napkin and laid it on my lap while he poured me a glass of red wine.

"All the better for seeing you." He winked, his dark eyes were framed with thick sooty lashes and a small dimple appeared every time he grinned. "We had a run out into the countryside to stretch our legs, and now I'm raring to go tomorrow. What have you been doing?'

"Not a lot. After the sessions, I read for a little while in the hotel gardens," I explained, sipping my wine; the warmth from the liquid spread through my body, relaxing me.

Miguel tapped his finger on my nose. "You caught the sun, Cariño, you have freckles dotted all along your nose."

"They tend to come out in the sun." I hadn't noticed; they'd darkened whilst doing my makeup.

"Si, but they only add to your beauty." He grinned, ripping into a chunk of crusty white bread. "Did you know that freckles are kisses from angels?"

I chuckled at him, shaking my head. "I've never heard that before."

"They are, and see here." He ran his finger along my bare arm, ticking me until I laughed. "You've been kissed all over."

I smacked his hand away, giggling. "Stop it."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I am only speaking the truth! A girl without freckles is like a night without stars."

"Alright, Casanova, your dinner's getting cold." I nudged him with my elbow, but I was secretly flattered by his attention, and my smile was wide.

I hadn't enjoyed myself like this for what seemed like weeks; the worry about the upcoming Tour, my first ever, had been weighing on my mind. It was refreshing to kick back and listen to Miguel's tales and the antics of the team.

After the waiters cleared our food away, my cheeks ached from laughing, and Miguel became involved in a heated debate with another of our cyclists. I sat back in my chair, picking up my wine glass and finished the last drop, twirling the long glass stem in my hands, lost in thought.

That was when I looked across to the next table and saw the stunningly beautiful face of Edward Cullen, shadowed by the dancing light of the candles. He was enough to steal your breath, but it wasn't his good looks that stole mine, it was the thunderous scowl that twisted his face as he glared directly at me.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **_Thanks to jcat5507 and Eternally Edward's Girl for their beta'ing and prereading. Gros Bisous to all of you for reading and reviewing. Major french snogs to Erron, who is probably in Lycraward withdrawl. He's all yours E xx  
_

* * *

**~~ SHIFTING GEARS ~~**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Annecy - Semnoz 125km**

**EPOV**

By the time I reach the end of a Tour, history has taught me that I usually hate all of my teammates to one degree or another. Either they've pissed me off on the road-which isn't unusual-or they've annoyed me in the hotel in the evening or on rest days. That's the main reason why I refused to share a room with anybody else; the thought of having to go to sleep with Miguel's smooth voice assaulting my ears sends a shudder down my spine.

But that morning I'd have done anything to be rooming with him, because then I'd know if he'd managed to score with Bella last night. Even the thought of it made me want to hit something, and I had to jump under the cold shower in an effort to calm myself down.

When I walked into the hotel dining room, my anger had tempered, and I deliberately scanned the room to try and spot Bella. My efforts were rewarded when I saw her sitting alone at a table in the corner of the room, with a book in one hand and a small white cup of coffee in the other. She absentmindedly sipped and read at the same time, so engrossed that she didn't notice my approach until I sat down opposite her in the empty chair.

"Oh my God, you frightened me!" Her coffee almost spilled as her hands started shaking, which caused me to feel absurdly gratified.

"Hello, Bella." Despite my anger, I tried to smile at her, hoping that the result wasn't some sort of tortured grimace.

"Hi, Edward." She glanced up from her book. "How's the groin feeling?"

"It hurts, but I'll live." I opened the energy drink that I brought downstairs with me. "If I can make it through this stage, I think that I'll be over the worst."

"Do you need me to work on you before you ride?" she asked innocently, and I tried not to spit my mouthful over the pristine tablecloth.

"No, I'm scared of doing anything to aggravate it." I started to spin the lid of my drink around in my hands, playing with it while I tried to find a way to ask her about last night. She took another sip of coffee and returned to her book. I glanced at the title, my eyebrows rising up when I realized that she was reading 'The Third Policeman' by Flann O'Brien, one of the weirdest books I've ever had the misfortune to read. I'd only bought it because it was about bikes.

"Are you really enjoying that book?" I asked, and she glanced up again, sighing slightly as she placed the book face down on the table.

"I was," she replied pointedly.

"Did I interrupt you?" I rolled the lid over to her side of the table and watched as she stopped it with the heel of her palm. After she held it for a moment, I wiggled my fingers at her to encourage her to roll it back.

"No, Edward, clearly I'm delighted to see you," she snapped back. "Because obviously the world revolves around Edward Cullen and his amazingly gorgeous body."

"You think my body's amazingly gorgeous?" I could feel a smirk plaster itself across my face, and she sighed loudly.

"That's what you got from my sentence? Jesus, you're such a narcissist."

Her reply wiped the smile from my lips, and I caught the bottle lid and started to spin it in my fingers again. "Did you have a good time with Miguel last night?"

"I had a wonderful time. Miguel's a real gentleman."

"His wife certainly seems to think so." I watched as a pink flush stained her cheeks, and she slammed her coffee cup back on the table.

"What exactly are you trying to insinuate?" she spat her words, leaning back and folding her arms across her chest. "Because not everybody thinks with their dicks, you know. Miguel and I had a fun, platonic evening, which is more than I can say for you and Carmen Volturi."

I'd heard people being described as 'beautiful' when they were angry before, but Bella's fury lit up her face, making her eyes sparkle as she stared me down. I swallowed as I returned her gaze. Suddenly the room seemed unbearably hot. She continued to look at me, challenging me to respond, and I realized exactly what her facial expression was trying to tell me.

She was jealous.

Of Carmen Volturi.

I bit my lip in an effort to stop the smirk from returning to my face, although I couldn't do anything about the way my heartbeat was speeding up. Nor could I tear my eyes away from her. She was staring straight back at me, her lips moist and open. If it wasn't for the fact that the dining room was full of cyclists and workers, I'd have dragged her across the table and fucked her until she begged me to stop. And even then I might have carried on.

Christ, I needed to get control of myself. In an hour's time I had a race that would either make or break me, and if I couldn't get my concentration back I was sure to fail. I slowly dragged my eyes away from hers, taking a couple of deep breaths before I pushed my chair away from the table and stood up.

"Just so you know, there's nothing between Carmen and me, except history." I walked around to her side of the table and pressed the bottle top into her hand, somehow wanting to give her a memento of this fucked-up breakfast date. "I'll see you after the race."

With that, I stalked out of the restaurant, hoping that her eyes were following my every move.

* * *

The race was hard fought and bitter, and I ended up in a face-off with Riley Swan, neither of us willing to give way when we tackled corners and sped through hair-pin bends. Eventually, we reached a winding part of the road which was only safe enough for one cyclist to pass at a time, and I circled my legs faster in an effort to be the one to be in the lead.

Swan clearly thought the same, and we were neck and neck just before the path in front of us veered sharply to the left. I dipped my head and went all out, sensing rather than feeling, Swan matching me wheel for wheel.

The rims of our tires clipped each other, and the location of our crash, coupled with the speed that we were going, made us both fly off our bikes and into the soft vegetation at the side of the road. Before I even stood up and checked my injuries, I radioed the team to bring my reserve bike, watching with anger as the peloton caught up to us, and we lost our hard-won lead.

The team van arrived and I was given the new bike, feeling a wave of pain shooting through my groin muscle as I got onto the saddle. Each circle of my legs felt like agony, and I pulled in behind the sprinters at the back of the race. They tended to save their energy when we were in the mountains and, like me, were just pleased to finish the stage. With each revolution of my pedals, I could feel my dreams of the yellow jersey slipping through my fingers. I only just made it over the finish line.

By the time the coach arrived at our new hotel, I was barely able to walk. Hobbling into the lobby, I refused any help from the team doctor, noticing Bella standing there in her jeans and green polo shirt. Her hair tied back to reveal her lightly tanned face.

"You'd better follow me." She turned on her heel and stalked toward a door at the back of the room. She'd obviously heard about the crash.

"Did you want me to shower first? I'm pretty sweaty." I unzipped the front of my shirt to let some air in and she turned to stare at me, her eyes glancing down at the line of hair that began at my navel.

"I'll give you a quick rubdown and then you can shower," she replied tersely, turning to the array of bottles she had laid out on the table beside the wall. "I don't want that muscle to seize up any more than it has."

While she had her back to me, I peeled my lycra suit off and left it on the floor, grabbing a towel from the pile beside the massage table and wrapping it around my hips. Even getting onto the table was a struggle; the pain shot down my right leg as I lifted myself up onto the leather surface.

I may have let out a little curse or two.

"Swear all you like, Edward, but you're the one that caused this. You and my dickhead of a brother." She warmed the oil up between her palms and went straight for my strained muscles, the resulting pleasure and pain of her touch causing my breath to hitch.

"Have you heard how he's doing?"

"Better than you, but that's just luck." Her fingers were digging into the flesh at the top of my thigh. I started chanting my familiar refrain 'Grandma, Jasper, Farts,' in an effort to control my response. Even then I could feel myself start to twitch.

"You know, if the two of you met in a bar, I think you'd actually like each other. He's sweet and friendly and always good for a laugh. And despite your over-inflated ego, I think deep down inside of you, there might be a nice guy struggling to get out."

Her fingers dug into a particularly tender spot, making me almost scream in agony. I sat straight up, my eyes wide, as she turned to stare at me.

"You okay?" She was chewing at her lip again.

I nodded, unable to speak. I didn't want her to know exactly how much pain I was in.

"Did you want to take a break? There's a shower just over there." She pointed at the door behind her, and somehow I managed to limp my way over to it and drag myself into the stall, pressing the button to let the hot water pour out of the showerhead.

Standing was difficult, so I leaned against the cold tiles as the water cascaded down my body. The resulting steam filled up the small room until I felt like I was in the middle of a misty valley. Grabbing the shower gel, I washed myself as best I could, rinsing the suds away until my body was squeaky clean.

Switching off the water, I went to grab a fresh towel, freezing suddenly as I heard voices coming from the other room. The voice was familiar, although I couldn't quite put a name to it until I heard Bella's words reverberate through the door.

"That's bribery, Marco. You can't ask me to do that, I'm not that kind of girl." Her voice sounded agitated, and I could feel my hands ball into fists.

"I'm sure your brother's welfare is as important to you as it is to me," Marco replied, his voice low and tempered. "I think we would make a wonderful team."

"I can't believe you expect me to just give in to you." There was a watery edge to her voice that made me want to scoop her up into my arms.

"I'll expect to see you in my room tonight at midnight, where we can discuss your brother's future. Among other things."

A few moments later I heard the outer door bang. Assuming Marco had left the room, I wrapped a dry towel around my waist and walked out of the bathroom, seeing Bella leaning on the massage table, her head in her hands.

"Are you okay?" I kept my voice soft as I walked towards her, watching as her chest rose up and down rhythmically. Was she crying?

"Just give me a moment." She pushed herself up off the leather surface, running her hands through her hair as she tidied up her pony tail. Her eyes were rimmed with red and sparkling under the glare of the overhead light. I wanted to walk over and touch her face to wipe away the tear that was spilling out of the corner of her eye.

"Was that Marco Volturi I heard?" I wanted to ask her more to find out if they were in a relationship. I suddenly felt very protective of her.

"Please don't ask me." Her voice was still soft. "Let's finish your massage."

"Are you sure? I-"

"Edward, don't!" she snapped before taking a deep breath and standing up straight. "I can handle this by myself, but in the meantime I need to work on your muscles, otherwise you won't be able to walk tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay." I agreed, wanting to do anything that would put the smile back on her face. I couldn't stand to see her cry. But as I laid back on the table and felt her firm fingers resume their work, all I could see behind my closed eyelids was the vision of her hurt face as she wept into her hands, and it made my stomach clench in anger.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** _Many thanks to Cared, for reviewing Shifting Gears in this week's RobAttack. We love all the Sportswards featured - if you haven't taken a look yet, run over now it's robattack dot wordpress dot com. Every Friday is Fanfiction Friday!_**  
**

_ Merci Bien to jcat5507 and Eternally Edward's Girl for their beta'ing and prereading. French kisses to all of you for reading and reviewing.  
_

_Erron - just think of this as the gift that keeps on giving ... only really slowly. Mwah!_

* * *

**~~ SHIFTING GEARS ~~**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Annecy – Semnoz**

**BPOV**

The finish line buzzed with excitement as the Team Eclipse van pulled up to collect the riders and load their bikes. The chaos was unfolding at the top of the mountain, towering over the miniature towns nestled in the valley below. The stunning vista, verdantly green, stretched as far as the eye could see and curved around the lake, shining silver under the high sun. The leg had been a rip roaring success. Edward had forced a staggering lead, passing the finish line, its colorful flags fluttering in the breeze with ease. I'd perched on the edge of my seat for the whole drive, following the race. The commentary buzzing through the team radio, relaying his progress, had my heart climbing up from chest and settling in my throat. Whatever problems Edward had encountered, he'd surpassed them or he'd pushed through the pain.

With that worrying thought in mind, I pushed through the crowds, searching for the green jerseys. I was jostled back and forth, having to use my kit bag like a battering ram to get closer. My height didn't help matters, and even standing on tiptoes, I couldn't spot him. Giving up, I tunnelled my way out of the throng to wait by the side of the road, hoping the crowd would disperse. A strong pair of arms wrapped around my waist, spinning me around. They squeezed the air from my chest with a bubble of laughter. The placement of the hands that spanned across my whole rib cage in an overly friendly manner left me in no doubt as to who it was.

He set me back on my feet, facing him, holding my arms steady until the dizziness passed. I squinted into the sun shining over his head, his dishevelled hair glinting like a brand new penny. "What a fantastic race, Edward. How are you feeling?"

He shifted to block the sun from my eyes, but it only made the view brighter as a huge smile lit up his already glorious face. He ought to come with a warning. "I feel fan-fucking-tastic. My muscle niggled me on the ascent, but nowhere near as bad as yesterday. Your hands have worked magic."

I narrowed my eyes, searching for any hints of sarcasm, but it seemed for once, he was genuine. "You're a well-oiled machine. I'm just the maintenance girl," I joked. "Do you need any treatment now?"

"No, I'm good, but let's meet later for our regular slot. I just wanted to see you." He stumbled over the last words, adding, "To say thanks."

I was heating up far more than the afternoon sun warranted, and I could see the fans and reporters clamouring for his attention. I waved him away, picking up my kit bag and slinging it over my shoulder. "I'll see you later. Your fan club is getting antsy."

"Bye, Bella." He turned to face the adoring crowds with a grin on his face, reminding me of a kid at Christmas. His change in attitude had me lost deep in thought for the whole trip back to camp. Catching my reflection in the rear-view mirror, I realized my feelings were displayed on my face for the world to see. A small smile tilted my lips.

The smile lasted until the early evening, but it plummeted to the ground and twisted into a snarl when I saw Marco fast encroaching on me down the empty corridor to my treatment room.

"Bella," he called out, his tone tinged with irritation. I focused on my destination and picked up my pace, but his footsteps chased behind me, and he tugged on the back of my shirt.

"Get off me, Marco." I spat, spinning out of his grasp, but his fist tightened on the material. The rip of the threads seemed to echo down the hall; the silence that followed was deafening.

It snapped him out of whatever his plans had been, and he held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

Tears pooled in my eyes, as I held the flap of material closed, covering the bare skin of my ribs from his lecherous eyes. "Get away from me." I tried to force strength into my tone, but it wavered, revealing my distress. Relief settled over me at the welcome sound of footsteps and voices nearing us.

Marco sneered at me. "It was an accident. Do you hear me?" His voice, shot through with venom, sent a shiver skipping across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

I took a few steps backward, never letting him out of my sight, until he turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor. A shaky breath left my mouth followed by a sob. I stopped it with my hand before it could escalate. I ran toward to treatment room, flinging the door open and locking it behind me.

Pressing my back into the wood, I sucked in air to calm my shaking body, wiping the tears that had escaped down my cheeks. This had gone too far now. I needed to report him, but the niggling voice reminded me, _who on earth would believe me_, _a lowly team member, over the esteemed Marco Volturi_? A pair of green eyes flashed through my mind—Edward. I quashed the thought before it could take root—the aftershock of my revelation would be widespread if Edward and his fiery temper were involved. I'd worked so hard to get where I was, and I wouldn't let a creep like Marco steal it out from under me.

I splashed cold water on my face to get rid of the red splotches that covered my deathly-pale skin. Pinching my cheek to bring back color where it was needed, I cursed remembering the ruined t-shirt. Edward would be arriving any minute, so I scrambled through my bag looking for something to replace it. If he spotted it, he would demand to know what was going on, and I wasn't ready to tell him. The only article of clothing I had was a flowery cotton sundress I'd worn around the pool and had stuffed into my handbag. It was creased and smelt faintly of chlorine, but it would have to do. I pulled it over my head, removing my jeans and hiding the evidence of my unfortunate encounter.

Edward barreled through the door moments later. His broad smile hadn't diminished since I'd last seen him. He did a double take when he saw how I was dressed, but I brushed it off, turning to prepare the oil and to hide the tremor in my hands.

The treatment table creaked as he jumped up onto it. I hoped he would be distracted by his phone, but I had no such luck. His eyes were resolutely fixed on me.

"How are you feeling now? Any aches, twinges? Did you do your stretches when you got back? We don't want it to seize up before the big day tomorrow. It's the most important leg."

Edward's eyebrows pulled together, and his smile dialled down but still twisted his lips to the side. "Yes, I was aware of that, you know, being the professional cyclist and all."

"Alright, smartass. Lie back. I want to get started." I patted the black leather, and Edward complied, resting his head on his elbows so he was still watching me.

I turned my back to him, pulling up the silky black material of his shorts and smoothed the oil into his thigh, manipulating his muscles with my hands. Edward didn't say a word, but I felt his eyes burning into the back of my neck. His breathing rhythmically fell in line with the strokes I made over his legs, the whisper of skin against skin.

A jolt shot through my body, as he touched my hip, and I whipped round to face him. My reaction starting him as much as me, and he pulled his hand back. "Sorry, I was just going to say you look pretty today."

"It's okay, you just made me jump." I returned to work his thigh, smoothing back and forth, pressing deeper and harder. I couldn't meet his eyes, they penetrated enough as it was, and I didn't want to be stripped bare.

Edward's fingers wrapped around my wrist, halting my movements. I saw it coming, so I didn't jump, but sparks still scattered across my body. "Bella, what's going on?"

"Nothing apart from your massage, or at least it would be if you'd stop interrupting me." I finally looked at him, and the pitiful barriers I'd put up were smashed down by the concern etched across his face. I could feel the words bubbling up, wanting to spill out. I bit down on my lip hard to stop them, but he reached out and pulled it from between my teeth. Anger swirled in his eyes, as if he already knew.

"It's nothing, just a stupid misunderstanding. I'm going to sort it out." I pulled away from him, reaching for the oil when he jumped up off the table, his shorts still tucked up on the one leg I'd been working on.

"Does this have to do with Marco again, Bella? Because if it is, I'm going to kill him," he seethed, reaching out to me, but he didn't step forward. His arm left hanging in the air, dropped to his side.

"No, Edward. Stop it. It was an accident. I'm goi—"

"What did he do?" His dulcet tones had frozen over, and the menace in his words inched my panic up another level.

I breached the gap, placing my palms flat on his broad chest, hoping the gesture would calm him. "Edward. Leave it. It's for me to sort out. It was nothing. Just drop it."

His hands were clenched by his side, his knuckles straining white. He flexed his fingers out, but they curled straight back into fists. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. He just scared me a little, that's all. I'm fine. Can we please just drop this?"

"No, Bella. I'm not going to drop it. He's harassing you. I want you to tell me right now what he did." His tone left me no choice.

"If I tell you, you can't react, Edward, please. I am going to deal with it." I stepped away from him and turned, resting my hands on the cool edge of the ceramic sink to allow me to focus for a second, until I saw Edward's face in the reflection in the mirror. His fierce expression made my breath hitch, and my body flooded with heat. I almost laughed, it was the typical bad-boy syndrome, and I was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. "Marco has been coming on to me. He's made a few passes, and I turned him down, but he's started to threaten me with Riley's position in the team. Last night was the final straw, and I told him where to go, but it didn't seem to work. He cornered me on my way here, and …" I took a deep breath, meeting Edward's eyes in the mirror, "… he grabbed me and ripped my top. Some people disturbed us, and he walked away. He said it was an accident."

Edward exploded, his curses turned the air blue, and I threw my hands up in fright covering my face. "Edward. Please."

"That fucking prick. I'm going to rip his dick off. I'll ruin him." He was pacing the room like a caged lion. I could almost taste his anger as it swirled in the air.

As he was about to rip the door open to leave, I threw myself in his path, holding my hands up, and yelled, "Stop it, now!"

My voice snapped him out of his red mist, and time stood still as he towered over me, his chest heaved with his deep breaths, masking my own. Then, everything shifted.

Edward crashed his lips against mine, silencing the whimper I made. His hands grasped my face, and his tongue begged for entry. I didn't hesitate opening my mouth to him. His anger and my frustration merged and morphed into a heady lust that took my legs out from under me. I curled my fingers into the front of his t-shirt, pressing as close to him as I could. His soapy scent and sweet taste invaded my senses, and I wanted more.

Clearly feeling the same Edward, grasped the back of my legs, hoisting me up onto his hips. The thin cotton of my sundress felt like it would burn to ashes under his touch. Bottles tumbled over and fell to the floor as Edward lifted me onto the sink, with the hollow sounds of plastic hitting stone as they bounced away. The cool ceramic edge pressed into the back of my thighs as Edwards hands, hot as molten lava, trailed up my bare legs. He devoured me, nipping and sucking; his tongue flicked a blazing a trail down my jaw and the column of my neck.

"Bella." He mumbled my name into my skin over and over as heat swirled through my body, settling between my thighs, where his own hard arousal, his shorts providing no barrier, pressed against me. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this to you. Jesus, since the moment you put your hands on me. Fuck." His voice rasped against me, sending me spiralling further and further into a fantasy.

I found my way under his shirt, I dragged my nails into his taut skin, wanting to mark him, to bring him closer. He responded with a shuddering groan, placing his hand on my collarbone.

He pulled back and looked at me. My lips throbbed. I was a panting, wanton mess perched on the sink with my legs wrapped around his lean hips. What was I doing? I was searching for the words to end it when his fingers danced down my chest, finding my nipples straining against the fabric of my dress. He rolled them in his fingers, and all thoughts melted from my mind, replaced by brightly coloured sparks of pleasure.

"You are fucking incredible." His head dipped to my collarbone, languorously running his tongue across it, leaving a trail that scorched me to the bone. His teeth found my nipple through the material, and he sucked it into his mouth, moisture soaking through to my skin. I arched my back pushing against his lips and his other hand left my thigh, cupping my breast and wasting no time in pulling the material down. The rosy peak, bereft of his warm mouth, pebbled in the cool air. My groans became guttural as his mouth swapped to the bare skin, pinching it in his teeth and sucking it until it popped from his mouth, while his hand twisted the other, taking me to the edge of a shattering mess.

I wrapped my fingers in his hair, tangling and twisting, until I felt his own moan reverberating against my swollen skin. I pushed myself against him further, tensing my legs to press his hard arousal against my throbbing core. The action caught the silver tap with my elbow and ice cold water spurted out and up the small of my back. "Shit." I was breathless, but Edward pulled me up from sink, smacking his hand on the tap to cut off the flow of water.

The interruption shocked me back to my senses, I was half naked and dripping wet. No matter how much I wanted him, this had to stop.

It seemed to have had the same effect of Edward, who gently pulled the top of my dress back up, but not before he brushed his thumbs across my nipples, the after effects shuddering down to my toes.

"Edward," The word came out a whisper. "We need to stop."

He adjusted himself in his shorts, an action that did nothing to hide the size of what he was packing, making my mouth run dry. "For now. But we will be revisiting this." He gestured between us. "And I haven't forgotten what you told me, but I will give you a chance to deal with it your way first. Then, I will be getting involved."

I opened my mouth to respond, but gave up. A part of me was elated he was willing to stand up for me, and I knew getting rid of Marco wasn't going to be easy.

Edward pressed his lips against mine, and with one last flick of his tongue, ensuring I was well and truly addicted to him, he left me wondering what the fuck had just happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** _Thanks to all of you who voted for SG in TehLemonadeStand fic of the week. We think we came sixth, which is amazing!_**  
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_Loads of love to jcat5507 and Eternally Edward's Girl for their beta'ing and prereading. Sweat-soaked lycra shorts to all of you for reading and reviewing.  
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_Erron - it's still your birthday and will be until we post the final chapter. So put your feet up, grab some wine and tell the kids it's mummy time xx  
_

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**~~ SHIFTING GEARS ~~**

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**Chapter 6**

**Final day - ****Versailles Paris Champs-Élysées 118k**

Tour De France folklore dictates that whoever goes into the final stage as the leader is sure to win the race. Nobody had managed a breakaway win since Alex Vinokourov's shock victory in 2005, and I was determined to make sure an upset didn't happen this year. I woke on the morning of the race with this fact lying heavy on my chest, my mind a sandstorm of thoughts.

I wanted to make sure I kept my lead, stopping Riley Swan from forcing a breakaway.

I needed to stop myself punching the shit out of Marco Volturi.

I had to get my head in the game.

It was late afternoon when we lined up to start the race. The plan was to arrive in Paris at dusk, a departure from the normal early-afternoon finish. I was a jittery bag of nerves, unable to keep still as my eyes kept wandering to the Volturi huddle, watching Riley Swan grinning as he spoke with the rest of his team

Miguel kept trying to make me laugh, telling jokes that were clearly funny in his native Spanish but made no sense in English. Eventually, I tuned him out, putting all my concentration on the road ahead. There was only 118km until I made it to Paris. Just 73 miles, and I'd be shifting gears down the Champs Elysees, cycling past the Arc De Triomphe, making my way to the winner's podium.

Only 73 miles until I saw Bella Swan.

The clock counted down to nothing. I adjusted my position, pushing myself back on the saddle to lengthen my thighs, my back long and low as I leaned forward. Even before the cyclists in front of me started to move, every muscle cell in my body was on fire, soaked with adrenaline, ready to overload.

The streets of Versailles were packed with spectators, standing five deep behind cordons. They waved flags and called out to us as we began to wind our way along the road, the party-like atmosphere lightning our mood. Miguel lead Team Eclipse out, keeping us close to the leading pack, never letting anybody start a breakaway.

We were a well-oiled machine, our discipline honed in the winter hills of Spain, our formation agreed before we'd even begun the tour. I was surrounded by green jerseys, all ensuring we stayed ahead, our legs cycling to the same silent rhythm.

From Versailles, we rode through suburban streets, so different to the beautiful countryside from a few days before. The roads were better paved, allowing for a smoother ride, but the noise from the dense crowds was distracting. More than a few times I found my gaze wandering across them when I should have been staring straight ahead.

"Volturi are going to break," Miguel called, and sure enough, I could see their red-and-black jerseys snake out as they tried to lead Riley ahead of the pack. We stayed on their tails, enough to make them try to pedal faster, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't shake us off.

We were on fire today.

Jake Black passed me another bottle of water. I took it gratefully, tipping my head back to allow the cool liquid to pour down my throat before I passed it back to him. Straightening my body, I grabbed both handles of my bike as I dipped back down to ensure the optimum position.

As we cycled into Paris, I could feel my heart hammering against my ribcage. We sped along the banks of the Seine, the tall iron skeleton of the Eiffel Tower welcoming us into the city. For the first time, I allowed myself to hope; maybe this year I'd actually come home with the title.

Maybe this year I'd come home with the girl.

The route took us across the river as we raced toward the Champs Elysees. We were due to circle the route eight times before we finally crossed the finish line. The first time I saw the huge white-stone edifice of the Arc De Triomphe looming ahead of us, I felt a shiver run down my spine, the beauty and majesty of the monument only adding to the historic feel of the day.

I knew I was only minutes away from the final line.

Minutes away from winning the tour.

Minutes away from Bella.

It was the last thought that kept me going even when my groin muscle started to scream in agony. With each revolution of the pedals, I could feel the tear growing, my face wincing as I tried to maintain my speed.

Miguel could sense my hesitation, leading us forward until he found enough gap to shoot ahead, determined not to let Riley steal victory from our team. It didn't matter who finished first in this stage, we were all too close together for Swan to steal enough time back, but Miguel took the lead, his head down low as he pulled the pack into the final circle of the streets.

Our wheels bounced across the cobblestones surrounding the street, my muscles aching at the juddering movement. I kept pace with Miguel, only a few bikes behind him, and concentrated on the final few meters ahead.

It was like I was in a tunnel. I tuned out the shouts of the crowd, ignored the waving flags and the people running after us in the street. It was man and bike in perfect harmony, moving as one until I couldn't tell where metal ended and flesh began.

My body was electric as Miguel slowed, the rest of the pack parting to let me lead them through the line. The result was a foregone conclusion, and as was usual in the final moments, they let me through to be the first to cross the finish.

Riding through the line, I released the handlebars, lifting my arms up in victory as I slowed my legs, tensing my abdominal muscles to keep the bike upright. I scanned the crowd to find our team supporters, my eyes trying to find beautiful mahogany hair and hazel eyes.

A huge grin split my face as I spotted her at the front of the barrier, jumping up and down, her face bright with anticipation. She was wearing a pale blue sun-dress, the straps barely covering the soft skin of her shoulders, and I remembered how good she tasted when I pulled at her body with my lips.

I'd won, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than share it with her.

I abandoned my bike in the middle of the street, fighting through the spectators trying to hug me, shouting congratulations in my ears. My eyes didn't waver from her petite form as I stalked toward her, my body hot as I took in her beauty.

Christ, I wanted that girl.

When I got to the barrier, she was standing as still as a statue, her hand covering her heart as a smile danced on her lips. I reached out my arm, leaning across the barrier toward her, our fingers brushing in a spark of electricity as I pulled her forward.

"Come here." My voice was rough. I was still panting from exertion, the sweat dripping from my skin.

She let me pull her close, until we were both pressed against the barrier, and she reached her arms up until they were wrapped around my neck.

"Oh my God, you won!" Her face lit up. I leaned forward to brush my lips against hers, and we ignored the whistles and catcalls as we concentrated on each other.

"We did." I smiled against her skin. "We won the fucking Tour De France." I kissed her harder, my tongue pushing inside her mouth, dancing against hers until we were both breathless. I didn't want this moment to end. I wanted to hold her forever, to pull her away from the crowds until I could show her exactly how I wanted to celebrate.

All too soon, I was dragged away, the team hoisting me onto their shoulders as they made their way to the podium. I managed to shout out that I'd meet her back at the bus, and she waved manically, the smile never leaving her face.

_Christ, I really wanted that girl._

She was still in the forefront of my mind when I stepped onto the podium, the loud roar of the spectators sounding like blood rushing through my ears. I was handed the yellow jersey, my arms pushing inside as they zipped it behind me, and then I lifted my hands in a victory salute, trying not to show too much emotion as the crowd began to scream.

When the Star Spangled Banner began to play, I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes, the memories of the Olympics obliterated by the pride that was coursing through my veins. I was so proud to be American, to be standing here where I'd always dreamed of being.

It was so much sweeter to know I could share this with her.

When the anthem was over, the interviews began. A pundit from ESPN walked over, microphone in hand, and he thrust it toward me as the cameras started to roll.

"So, Edward, how does it feel to wear the yellow jersey?"

I swallowed, realizing just how dry my throat felt. "It feels amazing. Like everything I've worked for my whole life has suddenly come together." I laughed hoarsely. "I'm finding it hard to express myself."

"How sweet is the victory knowing you just beat Riley Swan?" He grinned. We were both remembering the way Riley had badmouthed me after the Olympics. I had the opportunity to do the same, but it didn't seem so funny knowing he was Bella's brother.

"It's pretty sweet," I agreed. "Especially since Riley's a formidable opponent. A hard-won victory is always the best feeling."

The crowd cheered again, and Riley tipped an imaginary cap at me. I looked at him, wondering if he'd be quite so accommodating if he knew exactly what I wanted to do to his sister.

"And what's next for Edward Cullen? Are the retirement rumors true?"

For the first time, I was going to reveal the truth. "Absolutely. I'm planning to retire at the end of the season."

The spectators gasped as one, and the dramatic effect almost made me laugh. From the corner of my eye I could see Bella's shocked expression. I wanted to run over and reassure her that it was all going to be okay..

"What do you plan to do with all that spare time?"

"I'm gonna spend some time with my girl." I winked at her, watching as a slow smile spread across her face. "I'm going to take her to California and buy her a bike. I can't think of anything I'd rather do."

. . .

When the ceremony was over, we hopped onto the team bus and travelled back to the hotel. Ever the professional, Bella quizzed me about my groin injury and any other areas that hurt. Watching her jot my answers down on her small leather-bound pad, I restrained myself from telling her which muscle really needed some attention.

I think she got the message anyway.

In the physio room, she moved her hands over my flesh one last time, her fingers lingering as she massaged my inner thighs. I lay back and felt her strong hands work through the knots in my muscles, not bothering to restrain my reaction this time, knowing that she was into this just as much as I was.

Her lips curled up as she watched me staring through heavy-lidded eyes, my mouth dry as she softly brushed her hand over the only muscle that wasn't aching.

"Right there." I pushed against her, and she placed more pressure on my groin. I was somewhere in between pleasure and pain, gripping the massage table so tightly I tore through the upholstery. It wasn't the only thing I wanted to tear through, and I hoped she was giving me a little taste of what was to come.

"Keep still." Her voice was soft, but demanding, and she pressed down on my chest in an effort to stop me from moving. It wasn't working.

"Jesus." My eyes almost rolled back in my head as she pushed her hand inside my shorts, curling her fingers around my steel-hard dick, slowly pumping her hand up and down the length.

"This is so unprofessional," she murmured, her eyes never leaving mine as she continued to stroke. "I could be struck off for this."

"I won't tell, if you don't." I was gasping now, my hips bucking off the table as she continued in a hot, steady rhythm. "You're just trying to give me a happy ending."

"Shut up, Cullen." Bella tried not to laugh, bending down until her face was in line with mine. "I charge extra for dirty talk."

She brushed her lips against mine, her teeth gently tugging at my bottom lip as she started to move her hand faster, running her thumb from the base of my cock right to the head, lingering over it, and spreading the pre-cum around until I was a panting mess.

I felt like a teenager, getting over-excited by a hand job, about to come less than three minutes after she first touched me. I moaned into her mouth, moving my hands down to her chest, cupping her breasts as I brushed my thumbs against her hard peaks.

"You definitely pay extra if you touch me." I could feel her smile against my lips before pushing her tongue against mine as they softly scraped against each other.

The pleasure was like a ball of fire in the pit of my stomach. It curled and lashed and grew in pressure until I was about to explode. My breath was coming in short, harsh pants. My mouth was glued to hers, my hands full of the softest breasts, thumbs gliding over peaked nipples.

"Bella," I warned, trying to remember the etiquette for this sort of situation. Should I ask to come in her hands? Should I just do it? The last time a girl had this sort of effect on me, the Backstreet Boys were still number one.

"It's okay," she reassured me, moving her lips to the corner of my mouth, before kissing her way down my neck. She scraped her teeth against my skin, sucking it into her mouth, sending shivers down my spine.

"Fuck…" I bucked against her, feeling myself spurting long ribbons of come over her hand, coating my stomach and the massage table. I could feel the pleasure pulsing through my body from my groin to my feet, my toes curling as I rode it out.

Moments later I glanced up to see her watching me, a big grin spreading across her sweet little lips. I grabbed the back of her head and pulled her toward me until her body was lying across mine, my lips crushing hers as I tried to show her exactly how I was feeling.

I was euphoric, delighted, perhaps even amazed. This was better than winning, better than hearing the national anthem as the crowd roared.

"As soon as I can walk, you know I'm going to make you scream," I whispered in her ear, and she laughed throatily. I moved my lips down her neck.

"I'll bear that in mind," she replied, reaching out for a towel then wiping my stomach to clear up the mess I'd made.

"You do that, baby." I grabbed her ass, squeezing it tightly in a promise of more to come. "Tonight I'm going to show you exactly how _I_ like to celebrate."


End file.
